Chapter 84 With Him in Charge

Shu Ran had a long, drawn-out dream.

In her dream, she struggled to win the Winter Olympics championship, only for a group of people to burst in and declare her result invalid. Shu Ran was devastated, crying fiercely. Tears soaked her cheeks, and she could even hear her own sobs. Halfway through, her consciousness flickered awake—she realized she was crying, yet felt as if she were still dreaming, not fully returned to reality.

A hand gently wiped away her tears.

The hand’s owner frowned, but a helpless smile played at the corners of their mouth.

By the time Shu Ran awoke again, it was late into the night. She intended to sleep more, but caught sight of a figure at the bedside in her peripheral vision. Her heart thumped wildly, prompting her to cry out, “Mom?”

Shao Anhong smiled at her, “Did I wake you?”

Shu Ran glanced around; the only person in the hospital room was Shao Anhong. She asked suspiciously, “Jingyu went home? Why are you keeping watch here? You’re not in good health—why not sleep on the bed next to mine?”

Shao Anhong gazed at her with all the tenderness a mother could muster, as if she could never get enough of looking at her.

Shu Ran felt uneasy under her gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Shaking her head, Shao Anhong smiled and stroked Shu Ran’s hair. “Time passes so quickly—when did you grow up so much?”

“Mom, I’ve been grown up for ages. Are you really my mother?” Shu Ran teased.

Shao Anhong couldn’t stop laughing.

Even if Shu Ran were foolish, she could tell her mother was different tonight, that she had something to say. Shu Ran propped herself up on her elbows to sit, but Shao Anhong pressed her hand to keep her from moving further.

“Why are you trying to get up?”

Shu Ran frowned, surprised. “Aren’t you here to persuade me to give up figure skating while I’m groggy at night?”

This time, her lighthearted tone didn’t amuse Shao Anhong.

Her mother’s brows drew together as she looked away.

A somber mood settled in again.

“I’ve agreed,” Shao Anhong said.

Shu Ran’s heart leapt. She exclaimed excitedly, “Mom, do you mean—you’re letting me keep skating? You’re letting me compete in six months?”

Shao Anhong sighed, raising her eyes to meet Shu Ran’s. “Yes.” Her gaze brimmed with concern, reluctance, and a mother’s selfless love for her child.

Shu Ran’s happiness quickly gave way to calmness. “Did you change your mind because of Coach Fu?”

Shao Anhong didn’t answer immediately, only nodded after a moment’s hesitation. “He said you told him you’d rather spend the rest of your life paralyzed in bed than give up this chance.” Her expression grew urgent as she grasped Shu Ran’s hand. “Ranran, did you really say that?”

“Yes.”

That single, affirmative word finally eased Shao Anhong’s anxiety.

It was as if she had finally let go of her worries.

Shao Anhong said, “Then go and do what you want. I have only one request—don’t push yourself too hard. Please promise me this: if you don’t recover well in half a year, don’t compete.”

Shu Ran’s eyes shifted, but she didn’t immediately agree.

Her mother’s grip tightened, sweat beading from anxiety and worry as her plea was repeated.

“Okay, I promise, Mom.”

Shao Anhong finally relaxed, smiling in relief, “Good.” She patted Shu Ran’s arm. “Go back to sleep.”

With the change in mood, the familiar air of worry within the hospital room also transformed.

Shao Anhong watched her daughter’s sleeping face, her relaxed expression gradually fading.

About half an hour later, she quietly left the room. As she opened the door, she found a figure still seated outside.

Upright, aloof, distant.

He bore no resemblance to the gentle man who had wiped away tears at the bedside.

Fu Yiqing rose, walking over slowly. “Let me take you home to rest.”

Shao Anhong shook her head.

She said nothing, just looked at him quietly, as if pondering or appraising.

Seeing she had more to say, Fu Yiqing suggested, “Why not talk in the boiler room over there? It’s warmer.”

Shao Anhong sensed the warmth hidden behind his cold demeanor. Perhaps it wasn’t much, but it was just right.

She didn’t speak, only nodded slightly, her emotions hidden and inscrutable.

Night had deepened; the boiler room was empty.

“I’ve agreed,” Shao Anhong said bluntly. “She can keep skating.”

Fu Yiqing had expected this answer and nodded slightly. “Thank you.”

“Thank you? In what capacity are you thanking Shu Ran’s mother?” Her eyes grew sharp, her tone serious. “Shu Ran is still young. Perhaps she doesn’t understand, but you’ve developed feelings for her beyond teacher and student while she’s still naive and immature. I think your actions are quite irresponsible. Anyone who makes immature decisions fills me with doubt.”

It was as if he had known this moment would come; not a hint of surprise or confusion flickered across his face. Only his tightly furrowed brow betrayed his internal struggle.

Shao Anhong pressed on, “You should know that even if Shu Ran qualifies for the Winter Olympics in six months, her chances of making a mark next year are slim. If the worst happens, as the doctors warned, what will you do?”

Fu Yiqing didn’t hesitate. “For the rest of her life, for better or worse, I’ll take responsibility.”

Shao Anhong was stunned by his steady tone. It took her several seconds to recover. “That’s a heavy burden. I don’t want her life to revolve around being someone’s responsibility. She’s not someone who enjoys causing trouble for others. Even if you’re willing to bear it, she won’t be happy.”

But he smiled.

Shao Anhong’s confusion showed on her face, her anger rising. It was as if she was the only one earnestly discussing Shu Ran’s future, while he treated it as a joke.

“You misunderstand me.”

Shao Anhong frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “I said I’ll be responsible for her life—not just as a burden, but to be present in her life, to take care of her, regardless of responsibility.”

Shao Anhong was stunned for a long time, then let out a deep breath. “It’s too early to say. If she’s unhappy, she’ll leave, no matter how willing you are. I know my daughter too well.”

Fu Yiqing couldn’t help clenching his fists. “I’ll do my best to avoid that happening.”

Neither spoke again, for they both knew that sorrow and frustration are unavoidable in life; without sadness, joy would not be so profound.

*

Beside the inpatient ward where Shu Ran stayed, there was a honey locust tree.

Its crown was hemispherical.

Lush, dense, and vibrant.

It was said to have been there before the hospital was built, and because of its age, it was spared from being cut down.

From Shu Ran’s window, she could see a cluster of branches.

At first, she enjoyed the scenery, but after a while, she grew tired and annoyed.

“Chirp, chirp, chirp—”

No matter how much she tossed and turned or pressed her pillow over her ears, she couldn’t block out the birdsong. Finally, she gave up, lying flat in frustration.

Grumbling angrily to herself, “I’m done trying to sleep!”

“No training today—why not rest?”

She glanced at the newcomer. “I’m really fed up. Listen to that—why are those birds singing right outside my window? Coach, do you think anyone could sleep in this environment?”

Fu Yiqing smiled, helping her sit up. “If you can’t sleep, then don’t force it.”

Shu Ran truly had lost all desire to sleep, so he helped her to the bathroom to wash up.

As they passed by the window, the birds in the tree chirped even louder, as if determined to annoy her.

“Coach, can you see what kind of birds those are? Are they a protected species?”

Under her calm appearance, a mischievous spirit seemed to awaken. Fu Yiqing was curious. “What are you planning?”

“Is catching birds illegal?”

Fu Yiqing replied quietly, “According to the Wildlife Protection Law, it’s probably illegal.”

Shu Ran waved her hands as if relieved. “Good thing I didn’t do it. Just thinking about it isn’t a crime, right?”

Fu Yiqing’s brows rose, smiling. “No crime. Do you really hate them so much?”

“Morning grumpiness targets circumstances, not individuals—let alone species.”

After washing her face, she called to Fu Yiqing, only to see him leaning by the window, eyes fixed on the birds in the branches.

“Coach?”

He assumed she wanted him to come help her.

She hurried to clarify, “I don’t actually dislike them that much.”

“Hmm?”

“So you don’t need to break the law for me.”

Fu Yiqing tapped her forehead. She looked up, puzzled. “What was that for?”

“Are you silly?”

“You’re the silly one!” Shu Ran covered her forehead, glaring at him. “A coach shouldn’t hurt a young athlete’s spirit. People say athletes are all brawn and no brains—how can even you say that?”

Her words made his smile deepen.

Shu Ran sat back on the bed, unable to resist asking, “Where are my parents?”

Fu Yiqing replied, “They’re organizing their things.”

Shu Ran exclaimed, “Are they leaving?!”

“They’re planning to rent an apartment.”

She realized her parents probably didn’t want to keep staying at Fu Yiqing’s house and burden him.

Her gaze was probing. “Coach, how did you persuade my parents? They’re famously stubborn—I must have inherited my stubbornness from them.”

Fu Yiqing’s eyes flickered, then he looked away. “They didn’t tell you?”

Shu Ran nodded vigorously. “If they had, why would I ask you?”

He raised his brows lightly. “Why do you think they didn’t tell you?”

“Maybe they don’t want me to learn their secret persuasion technique?” She waved her hand playfully. “Just kidding—tell me your secret.”

“If your parents didn’t tell you, that means one thing.”

She leaned in curiously. “What?”

He gently patted her head. “It means only adults can know.”

All curiosity vanished from Shu Ran’s face, replaced by a fierce glare. “I’m twenty—an adult!”

“Only children insist on how grown-up and mature they are.”

Shu Ran was about to press further when Fu Yiqing asked, “By the way, do you know what kind of birds are outside the window?”

Hearing this, Shu Ran grew anxious. “Coach, I really don’t dislike them that much—don’t break the law.”

He suppressed a smile, continuing, “They’re magpies—the birds that bring good news.”

Shu Ran’s eyes lit up, and she turned to look at the magpies outside with a much more amiable gaze.